


A Brief Separation

by sidneypaget



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Body Worship, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson, Femlock, Fluff and Smut, Johnlock - Freeform, Lingerie, Sherlock thinks Joan is perfect, Video Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7427374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidneypaget/pseuds/sidneypaget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is investigating a murder in Edinburgh and it doesn't take long  for her to begin missing her wife. Luckily, Joan knows a way to get Sherlock rushing back to Baker Street.</p><p>Married femlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief Separation

**Author's Note:**

> This probably needs editing a lot but I wanted to post it before I go away this weekend, and because it's Femlock Friday. I apologise in advance if there's any mistakes!

It had only been two nights. Sherlock kept telling herself that that wasn’t that long; they’d once gone two years without seeing each other and survived it (just).

Lestrade had texted her a few days ago with news of a locked room murder, her favourite kind. He’d got a call from Dimmock, who had been relocated to Scotland, asking for Sherlock’s assistance in solving it. The case sounded perfect, the only drawback being that it had occurred in Edinburgh, and Joan was working at the clinic all week and so wasn’t able to come with her. Sherlock had still been excited to go, but without Joan she knew it would be a lot more difficult, physically and emotionally. However, she had not anticipated missing her quite to the extent that she actually did.

She had spent the first night busy with the case, and when she returned to her hotel room she couldn't bring herself to get into the empty bed. This would be her first night without Joan in over a year. She had sat up and organized her thoughts about the case in her mind palace until her eyes physically would not stay open and then reluctantly clambered between the cold sheets. She'd woken up the next morning to an empty bed and wallowed for a little while in the misery of her wife not being the first thing she saw that day.

She’d been back out there the second day investigating again, something that was so much harder when she was in an unfamiliar city without her wife to help her navigate it. She’d retired back to the hotel room as late as possible, and then sat up until 4am looking through case files. She tried not to think of Baker Street, and of Joan.

Early the next morning Sherlock was grabbing a coffee to keep her awake before heading to the police station when a text arrived from Joan.

**how’s the case going? i miss you x**

Sherlock’s heart fluttered as she read it. She still felt like the luckiest woman in the world. They’d only been married for 6 months, and they were the happiest 6 months of Sherlock’s life.

Any reservation they had with each other before they became a couple had gradually receded over time, and they’d been together less than a year before they fully allowed themselves to act like the lovesick romantics that they had always been but endeavoured to keep hidden out of self-preservation.

How had she gotten so lucky? She had once believed herself so utterly undeserving of love that she had shut herself up and tried to avoid it. Joan had managed to break down every barrier Sherlock had put up to protect herself and made herself a crucial part of Sherlock’s life in every way.

Sherlock wished so hard that she could travel back to her 16 year old self and tell her that it was all going to be okay, that she didn’t have to hate herself, that there was nothing wrong with loving girls. That one day she would meet a woman who would change everything, who would teach her how to love and be loved in a way that she had never imagined possible before.

**Interesting, but should be solved within the next few days. Ring me later. I love you. -SH x**

Now she at least had the thought of speaking to Joan soon to look forward to.

She threw herself back into the investigation, and it wasn’t until much later that her phone began to ring in the middle of her second visit to the crime scene.

‘I’ll have to get that. It’ll be Joan Watson, my wife.’ Sherlock explained to the police staff who were accompanying her. Whenever possible she liked to remind people that she was married to Joan.

‘We all know who your wife is, Sherlock.’ Dimmock said, disgruntled.

This response was a familiar one to Sherlock, Lestrade had a similar attitude. He was happy for them of course, but that didn’t stop him rolling his eyes when Sherlock would introduce Joan as ‘my wife’ every time she entered a crime scene, while Joan looked on, heart-warmingly fond. ‘Some people might not know!’ Sherlock had proclaimed as her defence when Lestrade asked her if she thought it was necessary. He’d laughed in disbelief at her, but was secretly charmed by her happiness.

She stepped outside the room to answer the call.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Sherlock!’ The sound of Joan’s voice was the most beautiful thing Sherlock had heard since she left her. She closed her eyes for a moment just to relish it. ‘Are you free to talk?’

Sherlock looked behind her at the room full of police officers who were awaiting her return and answered, ‘Yeah.’

‘Good. Have you been looking after yourself? Have you eaten today?’

Sherlock smiled at the concern in Joan’s voice. ‘Yes, I have. Thanks for asking, _mum_ ,’ she teased. Joan giggled down the phone and Sherlock wished she was there to see it.

‘How’s the case?’

‘It’s going well. I think the majority of the legwork is done now, I just need to go through the records and look at some files.’

‘Sounds fun.’

‘Doesn’t it just.’

‘So do you think you’ll be home soon?’ Joan asked, sounding hopeful.

‘I don’t know. I know Dimmock wants me to stay until at the least the end of the week.’ Joan made a sound of protest. ‘I know. I don’t want to either, but I’ve came all this way, I may as well see it through.’

‘I guess, but I want you here.’

‘I want to be there.’

‘I can’t sleep without you.’ Joan muttered, sounding embarrassed. Sherlock felt herself getting emotional with the sheer extent of her love for this woman. She had never thought she would ever have this type of unconditional love, but Joan had given her it without hesitation.

Joan saved her from saying something utterly sappy in reply by speaking again before she had the chance, ‘and I'm horny.’ She said in an accusatory voice, as if it was entirely Sherlock's fault.

Sherlock's mouth went dry.

‘You must be feeling awfully neglected,’ she answered, keeping her tone playful as she felt arousal pool in her stomach.

‘I am. I guess I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands, so to speak, since my wife has so cruelly abandoned me.’

Sherlock was squirming at the lovely image that presented and spoke quickly before she came to her senses, ‘Send me pictures if you do?’ She asked, blushing.

‘What ever happened to no distractions while you're working?’ Joan asked, her smile evident through her voice.

‘I married you; I've been distracted ever since.’

‘Well, for that I apologise.’

‘Don't you dare. I guess before you I just never realised how appealing distractions can be.’

Sherlock had been so caught up in the phone call that she hadn't noticed Dimmock coming to find her.

‘Sherlock, are you ready to get back in there? These people have plenty of things to do that do not involve waiting around while you phone your wife, you know.’

Sherlock was tempted to tell him to solve the bloody case himself.

‘Joan, I'm going to have to go now.’ She said regretfully, ‘that thing I mentioned though…?’ She asked, very aware that Dimmock was standing right next to her and reluctant to be so forward with him listening in.

Joan laughed, ‘I'll see what I can do. Bye Sherlock, I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

* * *

When Sherlock arrived at her hotel that night, it was 9 o'clock. She threw her Belstaff onto a chair in the corner of the room and changed into comfortable clothes. It was such a relief to put on her pyjama bottoms and remove her bra after the day she’d had.

She was confident that she knew who the killer was, it was just a matter of finding sufficient evidence to convict, which was always the easiest part when the criminal was just a common man and not a mastermind of the Moriarty variety.

She grabbed her laptop out of her duffel and sighed as she collapsed with it onto the bed. She checked her blog, then Joan’s, and then her emails. Sherlock was confused to find that she had an unread email from Joan. Why would she email when she could just text?

Sherlock opened the email and realised there was a video attachment. The realisation of what it must be dawned on her and she clicked the link with slightly more force than necessary.

The video popped up and showed Joan sat up on their bed at Baker Street, wearing Sherlock’s blue silk dressing gown. Joan knew how much Sherlock loved it when she helped herself to Sherlock’s clothes. The laptop that was filming her had been placed on their bedside table, and Joan was facing it to give Sherlock the best possible view of her.

Sherlock’s heart was beating erratically as she pressed play.

Joan sat up to kneel on the bed, and made eye contact with the camera as she undid the sash of the dressing gown. Tortuously slowly, the silk of her dressing gown slid away to reveal her warm flesh, which was covered only by the black silk lingerie that Joan was wearing. 

Sherlock's breath hitched in anticipation. The dressing gown was discarded and Joan kneeled there, in all her glory, for Sherlock’s viewing pleasure. Joan usually just wore practical underwear, sometimes even men’s boxers, so the sight of her in skimpy lingerie was a complete surprise. Sherlock knew she was wearing them only to add to the effect of her striptease. She tried to picture Joan seductively stripping off her Calvin Klein’s. She expected to find the thought funny and sort of ridiculous, but instead found herself aroused by that mental image as well.

Joan trailed her hands up her thighs, over her stomach and up to her own breasts. Joan’s body was soft and curvaceous, she had lost the toned stomach and defined muscle she had once had from her army days – Sherlock (of course) adored her body both with and without it. 

She undid the clasp of her bra, and looked at the camera from beneath her eyelashes coyly as she threw it to one side.

Joan knew the effect that her naked chest had on Sherlock and was clearly taking advantage of it. It was obscene really, Sherlock’s fascination with her wife’s breasts, but Sherlock knew Joan was delighted by it and so never made an effort to hide how she felt. Sherlock did not have particularly big breasts herself, but appreciated Joan’s to a ridiculous extent and made sure Joan knew it.

Joan grasped both of them in her hands and squeezed them. She gasped a little and then began to rub her own nipples, so that they pebbled prettily. She held her breasts in both hands again and fondled them as though the hands weren't her own. Then one hand kept playing with one of her nipples whilst the other trailed down to the waistline of her knickers.

Joan moaned softly as she began to properly touch herself, but Sherlock’s view was obscured by the fact she had not yet taken her lace knickers off. Joan swayed her hips slightly, as though she was finding it difficult to keep her balance. She seemed to remember Sherlock then and smiled faux shyly at the camera. She took the waistband of her knickers and slowly edged it down over her hips and thighs, revealing her body like a present unwrapping itself for Sherlock’s eager eyes.

Sherlock had no memory of putting her own hand underneath her pyjamas, but must have done, because she was absently rubbing herself whilst she watched Joan’s performance. She marvelled over how wet she was already. _This is my wife_ , she kept thinking on repeat, _how on earth is this goddess my wife?_

Joan then turned sideways and laid back against the pillows of their bed, the camera to the left of her so Sherlock could still see her properly. She'd clearly put a lot of thought into where she was going to place the camera for the best angle.

She began to caress herself with her hands again, but this time up the inside of her thighs rather than her breasts. She kept her eyes firmly shut, and seemed finally to lose herself in the moment.

This was one of Sherlock’s favourite parts of sex with Joan, when she would lose all of her inhibitions and give herself over completely to Sherlock’s hands and mouth. Sherlock always began oral sex with Joan by first leaving a trail of wet kisses up the inside of her thighs, and with a pang of arousal Sherlock realised that it was this that Joan was picturing now as she touched her own body.

It was a beautiful thing to see Joan like this — trusting, unselfconscious, and allowing Sherlock to witness her in what was usually a very private act. Sherlock felt extremely privileged to have won Joan’s trust and intimacy to the extent that she was permitted to see her like this, at her most vulnerable.

Joan’s hands finally reached her cunt, which was quite noticeably wet, and she began to rub her clit with one hand. Joan liked to be touched quite roughly, and began to do so as Sherlock watched on, breathless. Her other hand went to her opening, and she inserted her index finger inside her own wetness. She threw her head back onto the pillow and bit her bottom lip.

Sherlock whimpered herself at the sight, and began to touch herself with more intent, blushing all the while at how obscene the entire scenario was.

Joan added another finger and moaned louder. She began to spread her fingers inside herself, and widened her legs wantonly to better accommodate them. Sherlock knew how wet Joan could get, and knew that Joan would be practically dripping onto the sheets by this point. She shut her mouth quickly before she could drool.

‘Shh… Sherlock,’ she murmured as she began to fuck herself with her fingers, sliding them in and out at an increasing rapid pace, all the while sighing and moaning. Sherlock couldn’t help thinking of what she would do if she was there, she knew that Joan was wishing it was her long, violinist’s fingers that were fucking her, not her own short, rather square ones.

Joan had dropped the flirty, seductive act that she had put on for her little striptease, and was now just doing what Sherlock imagined she would do when she masturbated alone. This thought was more arousing, as although Sherlock loved watching Joan be confident and teasing, she couldn’t help but find her more attractive when she was just being herself. 

Joan arched her back as she continued to finger herself, her chest heaving as she took deep breaths in. 

She was the most gorgeous thing Sherlock had ever seen.

Sherlock began grinding the heel of her palm against her clit, and put her free hand in her mouth to quiet her groans. She let her legs fall apart as she watched her wife, never taking her eyes off the screen for a second.

Joan’s sighs became higher pitched and more frequent, and Sherlock could tell she was getting close. Sherlock was close herself, driven by not only the visual Joan presented but by the thought that Joan had stripped for _her_ , worn lingerie for _her_ , was thinking of _her_ as she touched herself.

Joan cried Sherlock’s name as she came, in a trembling, broken voice. Sherlock came almost simultaneously, and was frankly astounded that she had managed to stave off her orgasm until after Joan’s. Sherlock saw visions of Joan behind her eyelids whilst her climax rushed over her, and her veins were hot with the bliss that coursed through her body.

Joan’s hand slowed for a moment and then continued as before. She could always come twice consecutively when she’d built up her arousal for a long time. Sherlock’s clit throbbed at the sight of her coming again with a short gasp.

Sherlock lay on the thin sheets of the hotel bed, sweaty and sticky, but momentarily content. Joan lay in their bed at Baker Street, and Sherlock couldn’t help but feel homesick when she saw how welcoming and soft their bed looked – especially with Joan in it – in comparison to the impersonal hotel room where she was.

Once she had gotten her breath back, Joan lifted herself up and crawled over to where she had placed the camera. She looked devastatingly lovely and debauched now, with her flushed cheeks and her mussed up hair. Sherlock watched her fondly as she approached the camera and looked directly into the lens.

‘I miss you, babe. Come home soon,’ she said huskily, with a soft smile that made Sherlock’s chest ache.

The video ended abruptly.

Oh, Joan was cleverer than Sherlock gave her credit for. What surer way to send Sherlock running home to 221B than by asking her sweetly, calling her _babe_ and looking at her with those tender, blue eyes.

She didn’t know if it was Joan’s intention to make Sherlock drop everything and go home that instant, it probably wasn’t, but Sherlock felt her skin burning from lack of Joan and couldn’t bear the thought of another moment without her.

She quickly cleaned herself up in the bathroom, reluctantly got redressed and threw the little she had bothered to unpack back into her suitcase. She had checked out and was en route to the train station within the hour, to the confusion of the hotel’s receptionist, who politely reminded her that she had another 5 nights left in her room.

Sherlock left the lobby wondering if she had been this irrational before she had fallen in love. She didn't think so and the thought made her smile to herself.

Sherlock managed to get herself on a sleeper train that would get her to Kings Cross for about 2 o'clock in the morning. She could be cuddled up and warm with Joan beside her by half past. Brilliant.

Sherlock did not feel tired now that she knew she was on her way to Joan. The anticipation kept her alert. She had a lot of thinking time though, and used it to contemplate how she found every little thing about Joan's body alluring. She adored her stretch marks, and kissed them whenever she could. Her cellulite received the same treatment, as did the large scar across her left shoulder.

Early in their relationship Joan had squirmed uncomfortably when she’d noticed Sherlock’s attention to these things, which had baffled Sherlock completely. They seemed to her evidence that Joan was healthy, womanly and, in the case of her scar, someone who had endured the unspeakable, and yet was only stronger and more gorgeous for the proof.

Whenever Sherlock called Joan perfect Joan would get embarrassed and think of these aspects of her body as evidence to the contrary. She knew that she was attractive, but thought of it as due to her manner and the way she held herself, combined with the fact she knew she was okay-looking.

 _Perfect_ , however, was a different kettle of fish. Joan thought that when Sherlock called her that she was flattering her, or pretending her flaws didn't exist. In actual fact Sherlock was aware of her flaws, just did not view them as flaws at all, but another part of John that she could worship and adore.

Sherlock smiled as she realised that after Joan’s virtual show for her tonight, it was clear that Joan no longer had any reservations about Sherlock observing every inch of her body. Joan knew her well enough to understand that the video was getting saved and watched on repeat for years to come, and had sent it anyway.

* * *

‘Sherlock?’ came a mumbled voice out of the darkness. ‘Is that you?’

Sherlock had crept as silently as she could up the stairs to their flat, and was surprised that the sound of the door opening had woke Joan when she was usually such a heavy sleeper. She was clearly having a restless night then. Sherlock remembered Joan’s voice on the phone saying _I can’t sleep without you,_ and felt yet another tug at her heart.

‘Yes, it’s me. Now go back to sleep,’ Sherlock assured her, but she selfishly hoped she wouldn’t. Not for a little while anyway.

‘How come you’re back now?’ Joan muttered groggily, sitting up and squinting at Sherlock, trying to make her out in the blackness of their room. She turned to the clock on their bedside table and looked at it blearily. ‘It’s after 2 in the morning!’

‘I know. Your video was very persuasive.’

‘What about the case?’

‘Like I said on the phone, the legwork is done; everything else can be done from here. Dimmock won’t be happy, but who on earth cares.’

‘Not me.’ Joan conceded with a smile.

‘Me neither.’ Sherlock laughed as she began stripping off her clothes, too tired to get dressed into anything else and preferring to sleep naked anyway.

She climbed clumsily into bed, and leaned in to kiss Joan. Their bodies fitted together perfectly and they both sighed into each other’s mouths at the same time, which made them laugh and break apart.

‘I can't believe you did that for me,’ Sherlock whispered softly.

‘I loved it.’ Joan admitted with a crooked smile. She motioned for Sherlock to turn around and snuggled up behind her, placing her arm just underneath Sherlock's breasts so they were spooning. ‘It was sexy to think of you watching it, and wanting me.’

‘Who knew you were such an exhibitionist.’

‘Who knew you were such a voyeur!’ Joan teased back. ‘If I'd have known all I had to do to get you home was take my kit off, I’d have done it the night you left.’

Sherlock smiled into her pillow. She felt utterly at peace with her wife smiling into her neck and gently kissing her nape.

'Well if I get a video like that every time I go away, I will have to take cases in Scotland more often,' she joked.

Sherlock fell asleep to the thought that 10 locked room murders were not worth one night away from Joan's strong arms holding her close. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically just an excuse to write fluffy wives and practise smut. Let's hope I don't get embarrassed by this and delete it in a few days.
> 
> Also, isn't it great how this time last year I was in denial about my sexuality, and now I'm writing explicit gay fanfiction?
> 
> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know if you did!


End file.
